


Fells Dust Into Ash

by dietplainlite



Series: So Tonight That I Might See [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alderaan, Awkward Sex, Canon Divergence, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, First Time, Leia's Funeral, Post TLJ, what is a tros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:00:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23126659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dietplainlite/pseuds/dietplainlite
Summary: “Rey, I need you to do something for me,” Leia said.“Anything.”“When I’m gone, I want you to return my ashes to Alderaan.”“Of course,” Rey said. “Of course.” She would do whatever Leia asked.There had been one more thing.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: So Tonight That I Might See [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/910626
Comments: 262
Kudos: 398





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smols-darklighter (gallifreydriel)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gallifreydriel/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Safe passage.

The box is simple. Made of Kirin-wood, it is brown as fertile soil, slightly longer than it is wide, and fits comfortably in Rey’s lap as she sits on the transport. The only ornament is on the lid, the seal of the House of Organa inlaid in gleaming orowood. 

“You don’t have to do this alone, Rey,” Rose says. Rey looks up at her friend. Rose leans forward in her seat and puts her hand on Rey’s knee. “Someone can go with you. If Finn can’t, I can.”

“There’s too much to do here and I feel bad for leaving, anyway. If this wasn’t so important—”

“We can figure it out.” Rose’s eyes are big with concern and empathy. 

“No,” Rey says, softening her words with a faint smile. “She wouldn’t want that, taking too many people away.”

_ She wouldn’t want you to go away, right away, either. She said it could wait until our forces were stronger.  _

Rey shakes her head, banishing her doubts. She wants to have it done, so that she doesn’t worry about losing the box in an evacuation or during a battle. That’s the only reason for rushing off so quickly.

_ Keep telling yourself that.  _

The rest of the way into the city, she hums an old Jakku drinking song to drown out any other thoughts. It mostly works, and she’s able to say goodbye to Rose and locate the Falcon without second guessing or chastising herself. 

As sorely as the Rebellion needs every ship they can get their hands on, the Falcon is too recognizable, so it’s been hidden since they set up a base in the jungle on Ajon Kloss. For the next seven days, however, the bounties have been lifted from the ship and from Rey’s head. She has free reign of the galaxy.

Well, as long as she makes her first destination on time. 

Rey sets the box in a drawer, wrapped in a soft blanket, then takes the pilot’s seat. System checks are good. There’s plenty of fuel. She has more than enough provisions. It’ll be a lonely trip, but Rey is in desperate need of solitude. She would never have dreamed, in all her lonely nights on Jakku, that she would ever crave to be alone. Yet, here she is, thrown into close quarters with so many people. Emotions were heightened anyway, and then, a week ago, Leia had summoned her to her bedside. 

“Rey, I need you to do something for me,” Leia said. 

“Anything.”

“When I’m gone, I want you to return my ashes to Alderaan.”

“Of course,” Rey said. “Of course.” She would do whatever Leia asked. 

There had been one more thing. Rey closes her eyes as she taps in a communication code. 

_ Breathe. Just breathe.  _

“Rey.” He sounds the same as the last time they spoke, though somehow even more weary. 

“Ben,” she says. He’s quiet for so long that she’s afraid the link has dropped. 

“You’ll have safe passage,” he says, finally.

“What are your coordinates?”

“I’m on Naboo.”

“That wasn’t the arrangement.”

“What difference does it make? I have business here that I can’t get away from.”

Odds are good that this is a trap, though if it were he would have kept the plan the same, because any changes were bound to make her suspicious. Perhaps that’s what he wants her to think, though. She shakes her head. It’s not a trick. He’s a terrible liar, and an even worse strategist. 

“Fine,” she says. 

“Contact me when you’re approaching. I’ll send you my location.”

His voice regains some measure of tenderness at the end. She doesn’t stop to think about what that means as she enters her lightspeed coordinates. 

* * *

During her trip, she reads up on Naboo. She already knows that it was the birthplace of Emperor Palpatine, as well as Luke and Leia’s birth mother, but not much beyond that. She skips over most of the economic and political information, more interested in the planet’s geology and climate. Why is he there? Is she going to touch down in the middle of an occupation? 

For the second time, doubt at his keeping his word flares in her chest. She’s delivering herself to him, again, but now it’s completely on his terms. And he’s betrayed her before.

_ Did he, really? What had he ever promised you? _

“Nothing,” she says out loud. He never promised her anything, even in offering her the galaxy.

The traffic around the planet appears standard as she makes her approach. No star destroyers, at least. She punches in his code again and braces herself. 

“The Royal Archive at Theed,” he says. “You can use the palace hangar. I’ll provide a transport.”

He ends the link before she can answer. 

The first planet Rey ever set foot on other than Jakku had been Takodana. Her first view of that planet gave her a glimpse, like looking through a crack in a door, of what the galaxy had to offer other than sand and sky. Seeing Naboo for the first time kicks that door wide open. It is the first planet she’s seen that has more than just one type of landscape. She enters the atmosphere over blue green mountains, which give way to a vast grassy plain, dotted with herds of roaming beasts and flocks of birds. As she approaches the city, the grasslands are cut through with waterways and roads. The roads lead to a massive port, overlooked by a city on a cliff, waterfalls cascading over the edges at various points. Many of the buildings are similar in color to the cliffs, the afternoon sun casting them in a soft golden glow.

After landing in the hangar and checking in, she’s greeted by a uniformed Togruta driver. “No luggage, ma’am?” 

“I’m not staying long.”

The driver leads her to a glossy black speeder and opens the door. There are eight seats in back, but Rey is the only passenger and remains the only one throughout the ride. The windows are tinted dark, but she can still see the city as it passes. The strongest impression she gets is that it’s clean. Closing her eyes, she reaches out to get a taste of what life is like here. There’s a strong sense of contentment, with some underlying sadness, fear, resentment. But she’s drawn away from the life forms to the planet itself. The energy is so intense that it overwhelms her, and she pulls back. She clasps her shaking, suddenly cold hands together and holds them between her knees. 

The speeder stops in front of a low, unassuming building at the end of a narrow street. The driver opens the door.

“Please have reception contact me when you’re ready to leave, Miss,” she says as Rey steps out. 

“Thank you.”

She pushes through a tall wooden door into a dimly lit foyer. A circular desk sits in the middle, where an older Cerean sits, typing on a data pad. 

“Excuse me,” Rey whispers. She’s never been in a place like this, but it feels appropriate to whisper. “I’m here to meet—”

“Mr. Solo? He’s the only one here today. Gave us a hefty donation for the privilege. He’s in the Regent Room. Down that hallway, turn right, take the lift to the lower level, turn left, then another right, then it’s all the way at the end of the hall.”

“Thank you.”

The Cerean has already gone back to her task. The directions leave Rey’s head as soon as they enter, but it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t need them anyway. She opens a door in herself that she shut months ago, and his presence comes through so loudly that she could find her way with her eyes closed. Has it always been like this, or does it only seem louder now because she silenced it for so long?

When she opens the door to the Regent Room, she discovers she isn’t in a basement, as she presumed, but that the building is built into a hill, and the entire south side of it looks out over the river. The Regent Room extends the width of the building, with windows reaching floor to ceiling. Every twenty feet, the transparent windows give way to stained glass portraits. She’s not ready to face him so she heads to the window, discovering a waterfall shooting out from underneath and cascading to the riverbed below. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Rey turns toward the voice. 

Her stomach drops when she sees him and her face begins to burn. He’s sitting at a table, beneath rainbow light filtering through stained glass, a stack of data tapes to his right and a smaller one to his left. His hair is a bit shorter than the last time she saw him, and there are new shadows under his eyes and in the hollows of his cheeks. But his lips are just as red and lush. Wavering blue and red light dapples his hair. 

He’s wearing civilian clothing, his shirt open at the collar. She can’t stop staring at those few inches of collarbone. 

“It’s amazing.”

“Do you want to have a look around?”

“No. I mean, I want to, but we should do this and then I need to get back. I’ve been gone too long already.”

His eyes cloud as he looks toward the window. “Here on Naboo, they release ashes into the river.” 

Rey walks over to get a better look at the window. It shows a woman, in an elaborate dress and hairstyle, face painted white with red accents on her lips and cheeks. “My grandmother,” he says. “All of these windows portray former queens.” Turning back to the table, he picks up a data pad, makes a few swipes, and a hologram appears. “There she is, without all the regalia.” 

The girl in the holo, for she is definitely not any older than Rey, is making an impassioned speech. There’s no audio, but the girl’s face is so expressive, the weight of whatever she’s saying is clear. And her eyes. They’re so familiar. 

“Is this why you’re here?”

“I came for some other information, but I got sidetracked.” He lets the holo play through before shutting it off. 

Rey reaches into her satchel he but stops her, his hand resting on her forearm. She’s grateful that she wore her arm wraps today. She’s been going without them more often, but needed the familiar pressure, the sensation of securing them, like putting on armor. She can’t bear the thought of what would happen if she touches him skin to skin again. 

“I don’t want to do this here,” he says. “Have dinner with me.”

“That’s not a good idea. And I need to get back.” 

“Please,” he says. “If you just hand it to me, it feels like a transaction.”

She can’t do this. The longer she’s in the same room with him, the less she wants to leave, and it’s only been a few minutes. For all she knows, dinner could be a four-hour long affair on Naboo. She wouldn’t stand a chance if he asked her to stay with him after that.

“I can stay for an hour,” she says, moving away, putting the corner of the table between them. “So, if this is some multi course thing—”

“It won’t take more than an hour.” He’s looking down at the table, lazily spinning a holodisk with the Force. When he looks up at her, she gasps. The longing in his eyes should send Rey running for the door. 

“I’ll stay,’ she says. “Only for dinner.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just dinner.

Rey expects to leave with him, either to—hopefully—a restaurant, or to wherever he’s staying, but he grabs his commlink and speaks into it, in a language she’s not familiar with. 

“Follow me,” he says, and leads her down the hall to a smaller room. This one is at the corner of the building, with floor to ceiling windows on both outer walls. It has a view of the river as well. A low round table sits in that corner, four large, square pillows on the floor around it.

“What is this?”

“A study for distinguished guests.”

“Like the Supreme Leader of the First Order?”

“Or a wealthy scholar.”

“A wealthy scholar named Ben Solo?”

“I’m not here on First Order business, and I don’t want a big deal made. If I came as Supreme Leader, there’d be three star destroyers in orbit and a regiment of troopers guarding the archive.”

Another Cerean enters, many years younger than the receptionist, pushing a hover cart bearing a large dome-covered platter and a crystal pitcher filled with an amethyst colored liquid. 

Rey steps back and watches as the table is set, unsure if she should offer to help or make small talk. Her host is no help, gazing out the window with his hands behind his back. She studies his profile, his strong nose, the scar snaking down his face and neck. 

After setting out the plates, napkins and utensils, the attendant lifts the cover from the platter, revealing an artful pile of meats, cheeses, bread and fruit. The food on the Resistance base is luxurious compared to the rations she grew up on, but this spread is absolutely decadent. 

“This is too much for two people,” she says. If he’s trying to impress her, being wasteful isn’t the way to go about it. 

He looks almost wounded by this. “It won’t be thrown away.” His tone is soft, but there’s an undertone of indignation. 

Chastened, Rey sits. He chooses the pillow next to her rather than across from her, she assumes it’s so he won’t block her view. 

He pours a drink for them, explaining that the liquid in the pitcher is Jogan fruit fizz. 

“It’s not intoxicating, is it?”

He looks at her closely. “No. Of course not.”

It tastes like the candy that a Twi’lek woman gave her once, along with a meal and a week’s worth of water, after Rey helped her repair the hyperdrive on her ship. That woman offered her a job, which she turned down, because she was still waiting for people who were never coming back. 

She’s drawn out of her memory as the bubbles in the drink break on her tongue and go up her nose. She sneezes and points a sharp look at him when he smirks. 

“Start with the soup,” he says. 

She’s had soup before, or what passes for it. Scraps steeped in water, the steam caught as the water boiled, repurposed, nothing going to waste. 

This soup is not much more than broth, with some springy mushrooms and sprouts thrown in it, but the flavor is rich and complex. Kaydel once explained perfume to her, how they all have top, middle, and bottom notes. This soup is the same, but the moment she thinks she’s gotten to the end of it, another flavor hits her palate. 

“I think you’ve ruined soup for me,” she says. 

_ You could have had this whenever you wanted... _

She closes her eyes and takes a long drink of water. It’s sweet and cold and as much a delicacy as anything else on the table. She hates that he’s been so thoughtful. 

He knows the name and origin of everything on the tray, pointing out his favorites, as well as things he’s not fond of but she should try anyway.

Licking her fingers clean after eating a slice of cloudberry dipped in honey so dark it’s almost black, she tilts her head, considering him. He chooses his food carefully and eats slowly, savoring each bite. 

“You don’t eat real food often either.”

“No.” 

“Too busy?” she ventures.

“Partly.” He closes his eyes as he bites into a bright red berry, leaving them closed as he chews. 

“Oh,” she whispers. “You’re punishing yourself.” 

His eyes fly open and he looks at her. “Why would I do that?”

“It’s true, though.”

“Food is fuel. That’s all.”

Rey continues to shove the delicious fuel into her mouth, determined to try at least one bite of everything—though she keeps going back to the bite-sized fig tarts.

“I knew you’d like those,” he says. 

“Why?”

“They’re spicy, but also creamy, which prevents them from overwhelming the senses.”

He’s looking at her lips as he speaks, and she wipes her mouth, worried there must be something on it. He hands her a napkin and it hits her that she’s sitting here, chatting with him over a meal as though they’re friends, not mortal enemies engaged in a fragile truce. 

The worst part is that she’s enjoying it. 

The attendant comes back and the spell is broken. He clears the table with brusque efficiency and exits, dimming the lights to give them a better view of the impending sunset. 

“I should leave soon,” she says. This time, he doesn’t object. She takes the package—the one no one else knows about—from her bag and places it on the table in front of him. The contents are wrapped in a white scarf. “Her ring, a key, a music box—"

“And a kyber crystal,” he says. “I can feel it. But how—”

“Luke took her searching for one, before she decided she didn’t want to train. She said she was pregnant with you but didn’t know it yet.”

“All this time and I never sensed it.”

“It wasn’t yours.”

“Do you think it is now?”

“I think that’s something you’re going to have to meditate on.”

He opens the box and removes its contents, placing them side by side on the table. 

“She was the most incredible woman in the entire galaxy,” he says. “In the entire galaxy.” His lip trembles and he swallows hard. 

“Come with me.” Rey says. The words are out before she’s fully formed the decision.

“Where?”

“To Alderaan. Come with me. You’re her son, the only blood family she had left. I think—it’s your duty, isn’t it?”

“She didn’t ask you to bring me with you.”

“I know she wanted to. It was hard enough for her to ask me to do just this. Besides, once you do it, it’s all over, right? No more ties to your family. The past is dead.”

“I doubt I’ll be welcomed aboard the space station.”

“But you’re the Supreme Leader of the First Order and the last of the House of Organa. They have to welcome you, even if they hate you. Besides, they’ll know it’s what she would want.”

He picks up the crystal and rubs it with his thumb. 

“Her saber would have been magnificent,” he says.

“Yes. Incomparable.”

She’s struck by how young he looks. How can anyone that young be the ruler of an entire galaxy? A being five times his age would be less than a speck of dust to something as old and vast as a galaxy. The crystal in his hand is the palest aqua, and somehow she can hear the song it sings to him. 

He closes his hand around the crystal. “I’ll come.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said once a week on updates but I figured hey there's a pandemic on and I have the chapter finished, plus the response to the first chapter was so nice that I may as well post it now.  
> Stay well and safe!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unexpected luxury.

Ben is swift in his preparations. He packs up his research within minutes and gives orders to have his luggage brought to the hangar. They hit a snag when he assumes they’re taking his ship, a restored Baudo class star yacht.

“No way,” she says, gazing up at it. 

“Why not?”

“I’m not leaving the Falcon _.  _ We can go separately if you want.”

“You aren’t at least curious about what it’s like to fly one of these?” One corner of his mouth turns up, a dimple briefly appearing on his cheek. Not for the first time, she wonders what he looks like when he smiles, and when was the last time that happened. 

The ship  _ is _ gorgeous, its curves harking back to a more decadent time in the galaxy as well as the fossils of the sort of ancient sea creatures that sometimes turned up on Jakku. Her thumbs are pricking with the urge to get in the pilot’s seat, but her survival instinct overrides her curiosity. 

“It doesn’t matter. Besides, no matter what modifications you’ve done to your ship, you know it can’t be as good in battle as the Falcon.”

“Are you expecting a battle?”

“Not every bounty hunter will have gotten the message about the rescinded bounties.”

“All the more reason to take my ship,” he says, starting up the ramp. 

“You win,” she sighs. “I’ll get my things.”

She grabs her one bag from the Falcon, but tucks an extra knife and another blaster into the outer pockets before calling base to tell them her change of plans, or at least her change of ships.

“I found an Alderaanian with a ship who’s also on their way,” she tells Rose. “I still feel like the Falcon is too conspicuous.”

“Sounds like a good plan, if you’re sure you can trust them.”

“Of course,” Rey says. She smiles, afraid that doubt will creep into her voice. “And I’ve got the tracker on just in case.”

Rey has seen old schematics, and these yachts featured heavily in the few episodes of an old holo show she’d seen, where wealthy people gave tours of their ships and homes. On some of the yachts, it seemed like every surface was tufted, and those that weren’t were gilded. This ship, however, is as sleek and white inside as it is out, the form of every detail determined by its function. 

“Did you buy it like this, or have it customized?”

“Yes.”

“Yes to which?”

“I didn’t do any work to the exterior, but the interior was ostentatious. A lot of red and gold. I had it gutted and redone, and I upgraded the defense and weapons systems.”

“Are you really going to let me fly it?”

“We’ll see.” 

He does let her fly once she refuses to stay on board unless he promises. It’s not just petulance; she needs the control, to be the one to put in the coordinates, to navigate them out of this system and into hyperspace. 

_ It’s still foolish to go with him.  _

As if it matters. He could betray her from any place in the galaxy. 

The ship handles like a dream, though having everything function perfectly takes some getting used to. As they take off she’s tempted to do a few dives and barrel rolls, but refrains. It’s not the time for showing off. 

“The Resistance knows I switched ships,” she says, once they make the lightspeed jump. “And they know to expect me at Alderaan.” She doesn’t mention the tracker on her wrist but she’s sure he’s noticed, anyway. 

They sit, staring out of the viewport, no longer at ease as they had been at the archive. There they hadn’t really been alone. There was the archive staff, and the city around them, and the hum of life on the planet itself. Here, they’re as alone as they’ll ever be, hurtling through space at incomprehensible speed. 

“Does it ever feel so overwhelming, thinking about the distances we travel? About how far apart we all are? Sometimes I can’t think about it at all because I think I’ll go crazy with it.”

He takes a sip of his caf and presses his lips together. Rey tries to tamp down her resentment over the quality of the caf. What they have on base is strong, often burnt or bitter from sitting too long, other times watered down to nothing due to lack of supply. This, however, is rich and mellow, the splash of cream he added enhancing the flavor, unlike the syrupy artificial creamer she uses on base to drown it out. 

“I was inconsolable on my first long trip,” he says, interrupting her impending rage spiral. “I don’t remember how old I was but I remember I felt so cut off from everything I’d ever known. I was too far away from home to sense anything I’d left behind, and there were so many new things, with energy I’d never felt before, souls and minds brushing up against mine so fast that it was like unending static in my ears. It was supposed to be a family vacation, but I hid in my room—in the dark—and wouldn’t come out, even to look at the tide pools. We came home early.”

Rey is certain this is the longest string of sentences he’s ever spoken to her. It’s so strange, thinking of him as a child, not only because of his size, but also the weight of him, of his sorrow and anger. Leia sometimes forgets about the present and delves into an anecdote from the past, but not often, and she usually stops herself before she finishes a story. 

“Your mother told me something similar, about how it is for her, but she says she can control it. Can you do that now? With that much volume?” He had shown her, months ago, the last time they had connected via the Force, how to block out a ship full of people. A ship is one thing, but she can’t imagine the focus and energy it would take to block out thousands of planets. 

“It’s manageable,” he says. “What about you?”

“It’s…different. Lightspeed is the only time I  _ don’t  _ have to deal with other consciousness or emotions. I don’t know if it goes by too fast or if I’m not attuned to it. It’s really only whoever’s on board.” He looks at her sharply and she looks down. “Yes, you. But that’s all the time unless I consciously block it, no matter where you are.”

He looks away from her. “What does it feel like?”

“Your…presence?” He nods. She takes another gulp of caf and stares out into the swirling hyperspace lane for a long while she thinks how to articulate it. “There were earthquakes on Jakku. Not major, earth splitting ones. More of a deep rumble, but they sometimes disturbed the sands enough to change the landscape drastically. It could be disastrous if you were in the middle of scavenging, but most scavengers learned to predict them. There’s a low hum you could feel in your bones. If you were paying attention, it could be enough time to get out. On top of a wreck is usually best, because you could ride it if it sank. You’re—you’re like that, a low hum, but in my soul.”

She doesn't add that sometimes, if she's not on guard, she feels his emotions and they are sometimes earth shattering. When his mother died, he had felt it, and Rey had felt him feel it, along with echoes of her own grief reverberating back to her. She had shut herself off from him completely then, though she swore she could feel his presence battering at her like the wind buffeting her old AT AT home. 

She looks at him, expecting him to tell her what her presence feels like, but he keeps his gaze on the nav controls. 

“You should rest. You’ve been travelling all day. I’ll show you to your quarters.”

He leads her down a corridor to a lift that takes them below deck. He shows her to the first of two doors on the port side of the ship. 

“Sleep well,” he says. He opens the door for her and stalks back to the lift. Before getting in, he stops and turns his head toward her.

“There were these flowers on Alderaan. My mother tracked some down, at a botanical garden on Coruscant. They’re called candlewick because they glow when it’s dark, a kind of gauzy blue. They don’t glow steadily, but pulse, slowly.”

“They sound beautiful.”

“They are,” he says. He meets her eyes and looks down. “That’s what you’re like.”

“Oh.” she says. 

He steps onto the lift, staring intently at the controls as the door closes. Rey stares at it until the display indicates he’s on the main deck again, then turns to inspect her room. 

Her bed is at least twice as big as her bunk on base, and perhaps three times larger than the bunk on the Falcon. She’s still adjusting to sleeping on mattresses, so it’s a pleasant surprise to discover that she can adjust the firmness of this mattress with the press of a button. There’s a table that can be used for meals or work, and a single viewport, undulating across the wall like a wave, mimicking the curves of the ship’s hull. 

The adjoining wall is given to built in storage, with one discreet door leading to the ‘fresher. Rey’s favorite thing to do in any new location is to check out the ‘fresher. So far, she’s never encountered one as pristine as this. 

The shower has the option for sonic or water, as does the sink. The ‘fresher connects with the other guest room through a door identical to her own. The other room, however, is much smaller than hers. She ponders the odd feeling this knowledge gives her and decides it doesn’t mean anything. The other room has two berths, and hers is clearly meant for one person. 

She closes the door and opens the cabinet over the sink. It’s been stocked with an array of products meant to aid with any grooming task the average human could desire, all with the same woody aroma. It reminds her of those first moments on Takodana, when she’d taken a moment to breath in the softest air, the coolest scent. A breeze bereft of grit or the smell of baking metal and sand. Surely, though, this is standard. Does he even think about what his guests would desire or was it chosen by whoever outfitted the cabin for use? 

_ He thinks you’ll fall into his arms. Because he took the time to care about what you might like, and you’re a sucker for anyone who gives a damn.  _

She stares down at her hands, with their blunt, dirty nails and dirt worked into the creases as a wave of grief hits her. Leia had given more of a damn about her than anyone. She gave so much of a damn about Ben, to her last breath. 

She lifts her head and scrubs the tears off her face with her hands. All of this is for Leia, because she still cared so much. 

She selects a shampoo and a moisture rinse for her hair, and something called a shower jelly. She thought that jellies were things to eat, and it smells delicious, but when she touches her tongue to it, it’s as bitter as the tea Poe gave her after a trip to his home planet. He said it was an acquired taste, but she still hasn’t acquired a liking for it and only continues to drink it because it was a gift. According to the label, this kind of jelly is for the body. It needs it, as she can’t remember the last time she managed to do more than a quick sponge bath. She also needs rest, but not before she indulges in the longest, hottest, wettest shower of her life. Why not, when it’s at his expense? She grabs a pore refining facial cleanser, whatever that means, and a callous dissolving foot scrub for the hell of it. 

When she steps out almost an hour later, her skin feels as though it’s been stripped, but in a good way, all tingly and alive. She slathers on every specialty moisture cream at her disposal and climbs into bed wearing only her basics. After experimenting for a few minutes, she finds the perfect setting for the bed.

She sits up with her data pad for a while, since the shower reenergized her, and she catches herself running her hand through her hair and over the newly soft skin on her arms. If her skin and hair feel this soft after one use, she can’t imagine how soft his must be.

_ Wouldn’t you like to know? _

She remembers the endless expanse of his chest and abdomen, how soft he’d looked, even with all that muscle. How the texture of it must contrast with the puckered scar tissue slashed across his face and neck, splashed on his torso. 

And with her thought, the low hum that had become indistinguishable from the ship’s engine spikes in volume and intensity. 

“Damn,” she whispers, and quickly flips through her data pad, finding an instruction manual for a high velocity thermal capacitor. It’s written in Corellian, a language she’s been learning in order to understand some of the Falcon’s nuances. 

The translation is slow, the text is dry, and the process is exhausting, making it a perfect remedy for sleeplessness as well as the churning feelings in her chest and gut. This was a mistake. When they get to Alderaan, she should thank him for the ride and send him away. 

That’ll certainly go over well. No. She made the decision to bring him along, for Leia’s sake as much as his, and there’s nothing she can do to take it back now. 

_ Do you even really want to? _

“Argh!” She turns over on her side and puts the pillow over her head, as this could somehow block out the voice, even though it’s  _ her  _ voice. She stays that way for several minutes, slowing her breath, counting the engine cycles, and the ever-slowing beating of her heart. Slowly, she releases her grip on the pillow, and when she’s centered, rolls onto her back. She falls asleep with the old drinking song in her head, but the words are garbled and distant. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Returning.

They exit hyperspace some distance from the space station, to avoid collision with any asteroids. The station orbits the star, an enormous wheel of two concentric rings and six spokes connected to a sphere in the center, the size of a small moon. One half of the sphere is constructed of transparisteel. From this distance she can’t see inside, but it glows a hazy green where the light shines through. The asteroid belt forms a multi-hued ring around the station, perpendicular to the station’s rings.

She looks at him, but his face is carefully neutral. “Did she ever bring you here?”

“Once, on the tenth anniversary. The energy was…too loud for me. It’s quieter now.” He stares out onto the glittering asteroid belt. “The man I admired for so long did this; he killed both of her mothers.”

“Ben—"

“They say he used to give pieces of Alderaan as mementos to leaders. As a reminder. The survivors could hardly get clearance to come here to pay their respects, and he did that.” He shakes his head. "Do you know what he would have done, if he found out the survivors were harboring a rebel fugitive?"

Rey swallows, dread settling in her stomach. Was it a trap after all? 

The comm crackles to life. “Identify yourself and state your business.”

Not taking her eyes off Ben, she commences with the speech she practiced in the shower. “This is Rey of the Resistance, aboard the Staffbearer. I’ve come with Ben Solo of House Organa. We carry the ashes of General Leia Organa, Princess of Alderaan.

After a long silence, a different voice comes over the comm. “This is Eglyn Valmour, administrator of the New Alderaan Space Station. We were expecting you, Rey, however we didn’t expect you to bring along such an esteemed guest.”

“I didn’t either,” Rey mutters. She mutes her end of the link and turns to him. “Do they know who you are?” 

“Valmour does, and Evaan Verlaine, a few leaders outside of that. The official story of Ben Solo’s fate is that he disappeared after the attack on Luke’s temple and is presumed dead or imprisoned.” 

This is another thing Leia told her, an example of a lie holding just enough of the truth to be convincing. She thinks for a moment. They need to tread carefully, as she doesn’t know who’s listening. “He comes in peace and respectfully requests to be allowed to attend the Returning. If this is unacceptable, he will stay on board the Staffbearer to await my return.”

“Hold your position. I’ll be back with you shortly.”

Valmour does not come back shortly. For a quarter of an hour, Ben stares at the same screen on his datapad as Rey paces around the cockpit. His energy is spiky and nervous, which feeds into her own anxiety. What if they decide to attack the ship? Unlike the lost planet, New Alderaan does have a defense system. 

“They’re not going to murder Leia Organa’s son on the day of her Returning,” Ben says, not looking up from his datapad. “At least not until her ashes are in their possession. But probably not then, either.”

“Then why are you so nervous?”

He looks up at her in disbelief, then back at his datapad. 

“Sorry,” she says. This would be a nerve wracking situation even if he wasn’t who he was. 

Another five minutes pass before the comm beeps again. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Valmour says. “As the last member of the House of Organa, of course Ben Solo may attend his mother’s Returning, as long as you’re willing to vouch for him and ensure that he is no danger to any citizen of Alderaan.”

“You have my word,” Rey says. She looks over at him. He meets her eye and nods. 

They’re given clearance, and Rey navigates the ship into a hangar. A chill runs through her at the similarities to the hangars on the star destroyers she’s scavenged. Everything may have been resurfaced in gleaming white, but the bones remain. 

“This station was built from the remnants of the first Death Star,” Ben says. 

“Leia told me, but it’s still a shock.”

If the familiar surroundings are a comfort to him, it doesn’t show as he readies himself to disembark. He goes for the full regalia, including his cape. At least he’s dropped that stupid mask for good. The sight of it, and its resemblance to Darth Vader, would test the diplomacy of any Alderaanian, bloodlines be damned. 

“Maybe, as a show of goodwill, you can leave your saber here?”

“Only if you leave yours,” he says as he pulls his gloves on. 

Reaching out around her, to the souls on board the station, to the party gathering to greet them, she senses apprehension, grief, and no small amount of anger and indignation, but no treachery. They’re as safe here as they could possibly ever be. 

“Okay,” she says, unclipping her weapon and placing it in the pilot seat. He does the same. “And you carry this,” she says, handing him the Kirin wood box. 

It’s tiny in his hands. He swallows. “After you,” he says. 

There’s a delegation of ten people waiting in the hangar, led by two tall human women, one with dark skin and whtie hair, the other with light skin and blonde hair. They appear to be around the same age as Leia. Ben clearly recognizes them, but it brings him little pleasure and no comfort and the feeling appears to be mutual. The Supreme Leader of the First Order bows his head and offers the box.

“Administrator Valmour, Regent Administrator Verlaine. I present the ashes of my mother, Leia Organa, Princess of Alderaan, General of the Resistance, Citizen of Alderaan, to be returned to the planet she loved, to become one with those she adored.”

Rey stares at him. His body language is deferential and his tone softly reverent. It’s like he’s become a different person. 

Carefully, as though she were being handed an infant, Eglyn Valmour accepts the box. “Thank you, Ben,” she says, placing emphasis on the name. This leaves no question about how he’ll be addressed during his stay. “The ceremony will begin at 1700 hours with dinner in the garden following. TN-3W will show you to your quarters. Unfortunately, with the news of Leia’s Returning, guests have descended from all over the diaspora, so we only have the accommodations we set aside for Rey. If necessary, we can do some juggling, but it may be a bit before we have anything ready.”

“We wouldn’t dream of displacing anyone,” Rey says, smiling at Ben. “Right?”

“Of course. I arrived unannounced.” 

“Don’t worry,” Rey whispers as they follow the droid to a lift. “I’m used to sleeping on the floor.”

It turns out that won’t be necessary, as she’s been given a suite, which includes a living room with a sofa. 

“I’m not offering you the bed,” he says, immediately shaking off his diplomatic demeanor. He begins a circuit around the room, inspecting it for dangers or listening devices. 

“Who says I even want it?”

“You don’t. But you want me to offer it anyway.”

“I was honestly expecting they’d put me in some kind of dorm with five other people.”

“You don’t know much about Alderaan, then,” he says. “No matter how much you learned about diplomacy from Leia.”

“You’re right, I don’t.”

“You’re going to get a crash course, seeing as how they’ve got a full State dinner planned.”

“She said it was dinner in the garden.”

“The “garden” is the biosphere, the glowing green ball you were mesmerized by on the way in. There’s a banquet pavilion at its center.”

“Well, I mean, you’re here so of course they’re doing something special.”

He shakes his head. “They would have had this planned for the occasion already.”

“For me? Why?”

“For Leia, mostly. But partly for you.”

“Pulling out all the stops for a nobody?” Her tone is light but his face darkens and she knows they aren’t at that point yet, where they can laugh about what almost was. They’ll probably never be. “I’ll, um, I’ll go get dressed.” She goes into the bedroom and shuts the door, leaving him in the sitting room. 

The dress is white, simple, with long sleeves and a skirt that flares immediately below her waist, falling gracefully to the floor. Kaydel had said it was elegant. Rey isn’t sure, but she didn’t have much choice in the matter. She’d never worn a dress until she tried this one on in the back room of a merchant’s shop on Dulathia. It made her feel vulnerable, at first, until the shopkeeper showed her the pockets as well as the clever slits in the seam, which allow access to a thigh holster, if she chooses to wear one. The fullness of the skirt would camouflage a weapon more easily than a pair of trousers would. Still, there’s something about it that makes her feel naked, despite being more fully covered than ever. While the neckline is modest, the back plunges far enough that she can’t wear a bra, and the way the silk lining brushes against her nipples and flows around her calves and thighs is an odd though not entirely unpleasant sensation. Hopefully she’ll get used to it after wearing the dress for a while. 

Satisfied with the fit, she sits down to do something with her hair, but before she can begin a droid requests admittance. 

“Hello, I’m WA-5L, personal attendant droid. Would you like your hair styled?”

“If it’s not too much trouble.”

“It’s no trouble at all; it’s what I’m here for. You’re in excellent hands. I’ve been programmed to reproduce an extensive array of Alderaanian styles, from the traditional to the contemporary. Would you like me to show you some options?”

“That’s alright. I wouldn’t know what would look best or what’s appropriate for the occasion. I trust you.”

“Excellent!” the droid says. “I know just the thing for your length and color.”

“What should I call you?”

“5L is fine. Sit, please!” 

For the next hour, the droid’s delicate fingers work through Rey’s hair. She alternates praising her for the shine and the length of her hair and scolding her for not taking better care of it. When Rey explains that the nature of her work doesn’t allow for much in the way of self-care, 5L tuts and reminds her that the Princess always looked her best, on the battlefield or in the Senate chamber. 

“Did you know her?” Rey asks. 

“Not well, but I met her many times. I worked in the palace but not directly for the family. I was offworld with one of my charges when the Disaster occurred.”

“It must have been terrible,” Rey says, though “terrible” seems like such a flimsy word in the face of something so brutal. 

“Yes, but we’ve carried on.”

5L tells her about the history of the style she’s doing as she begins separating Rey’s hair into sections and Rey finds herself holding back tears. As far as she can remember, no one has ever touched her so tenderly, certainly not for the sole purpose of making her look nice. Surely, though, someone, her mother or father, had brushed her hair out, had taught her the style she wore for so many years? If so, the memory is lost along with so many others. 

“Are you ready to look?” 5L says, bringing Rey back to the present.

“Yes. Please.”

5L spins the chair around to face the mirror, and projects a holo so Rey can see all the angles. 

“Wow,” Rey breathes. 5L has created two buns on either side of her head, consisting of three interwoven braids each. Somehow, it doesn’t feel tight or heavy, however, and the look is softened by the tendrils of hair at her ears and neck. 

“It’s incredible,” she says, letting the tears fall. 

“I’m glad you’re pleased. You’ll want to press some cold water to your eyes when you’re finished crying, to reduce the puffiness. Please let me know if you need anything else. I need to attend Master Solo now.”

“Thank you, so much,” Rey says. 

“It is my pleasure,” 5L says, and goes back into the sitting room. 

Rey stays in the bedroom until it’s time to go to the ceremony. She spends a lot of time checking out the view. The viewport faces the outside of the ring, with a view of the asteroid belt to the right. Every once in a while, an asteroid collides with the station’s shield, breaking apart into smaller pieces before getting pulled back into orbit. How painful must that be to watch, for those who were alive when the planet was destroyed, seeing it pulverized further? 

Leia told her there had been a huge debate about whether to remain with the remnants of the planet or settle another one. Rey can see both sides, how such a reminder of the obliteration of a planet can serve as a source of strength, and of despair. 

“Rey, it’s time,” Ben says over the intercom. 

She opens the door and gasps when she sees him. He stops in his tracks when he sees her. 

“Is it okay?” she asks, touching her hair.

“It’s good.”

“You, too. I mean, you’re good.” 5L hasn’t done anything elaborate with his hair, just a simple twist across the top of his head. He’s ditched the black for a knee length white tunic over cream trousers, with a long white robe over it. As she gets closer, she sees threads of gold in the weave of the robe. The light color makes his hair, eyes and lips stand out. She looks down. He’s not wearing his gloves.

“We should go, right? It’s time?” she asks.

“It’s time.”

A transport line runs the circumference of the outer ring, with transfers at every spoke. The ceremony is at the center of the station, in the biosphere, and the car is crowded with citizens of all ages, dressed in white. When the doors open, Ben steps back, posture rigid, hands fisted at his sides. She fights the urge to reach out and hold his hand. She’s not interested in experiencing some intimate vision with him on a crowded tram. Her right hand tingles with the memory of what passed between them on Ahch-To. 

“Master Solo!” a mechanical voice calls. They look to the left, where a blue protocol droid toddles their way. “Apologies for the delay. I was instructed to retrieve you at your room. There is a private car on its way. 

The doors close on the waiting car and it’s whooshed away. 

“How many expected at the ceremony?” Ben asks. 

“There is room for several hundred on deck. Others will view on screens from the inner ring, and others from their quarters. In essence, the event will be viewed by every citizen of the station.”

“Will it be broadcast?”

“No, Master Solo. As you know, the Returning is a solemn and private occasion.”

The car arrives, and the air inside is chilled. 

“The carbon dioxide sensors should catch up momentarily and raise the temperature,” the droid says, noticing Rey’s discomfort. “They’ve been running full for the past hour.”

“Thank you.”

She sits, but Ben chooses to remain standing. The droid explains the details of the ceremony and the dinner after. Rey’s head begins to ache. This is going to be a long day. 

* * *

When they reach the sphere, Rey and Ben are ushered onto a lift and down to the southern hemisphere, which houses administrative offices, control rooms, and the mechanisms that keep the biosphere alive. At the southernmost point is an observation deck. The top of the dome is only about ten meters above their heads and is crystal clear, so Rey experiences a bit of vertigo looking out onto so much space. The floor gently slopes toward the center, where a massive, transparent column connects the domed glass ceiling to the floor. Rey looks more closely at the floor. 

“The laser well from the Death Star. Or parts of it, patched together, pieces filled in.”

The places where the floor is pieced together are filled with veins of wood, stone, marble, precious metals, branching from the center like roots. Her scavenger heart both thrills and breaks at the sight. 

The droid had told her that Leia’s ashes would be placed in a special pod, which would disintegrate upon meeting the asteroid field, scattering the ashes, returning Leia to her parents and everyone else she lost. 

As the pod comes into view, she takes Ben’s hand. It’s warm, and soft, and she’s not assailed by a vision, but she can feel his sorrow more acutely with this contact, blended with her own. 

Verlaine steps forward and begins speaking, her blonde hair in a style Rey has seen Leia wear. She had known Leia since they were young women, and while her tales of adventure are interesting, it’s not long before Rey gets swept away on the tide of Ben’s memory. 

_ He is in a transport, his mother cradling him in her lap. His left arm hurts and is strapped to his side with a sling and his right hand holds on to a lock of his mother’s hair. Not tightly, only for comfort.  _

_ “I’m sorry I fell down, Mama,” he says. He sniffles and tears start falling again. _

_ “Shhh, my darling. It wasn’t your fault. You were only trying to help. We’re almost there and the doctor will make it all better.” _

By the time Eglyn Valmour steps forward, regal in her white robes, Rey is in tears not only for Leia but for Ben. Will she ever find out what happened to that sweet child?

Valmour speaks. “For the collective memory of those we lost, and we who continue with them in our hearts, we return this child of Alderaan home.”

The pod rises through the column and is sent into the vacuum of space, arcing gracefully toward the remnants. When it explodes in a burst of glittering dust, Ben Solo gasps and Rey’s chest tightens, their distinct shades of sorrow creating a feedback loop, until Rey is overwhelmed and drops his hand. The pressure lessens, but only slightly. 

His face is set, stony, his lips pressed firmly together. She takes him by the wrist and pulls him away from the crowd and to the turbolift. It’s identical to the one they were in together on the Supremacy, though the harsh white light is softened to a warm pink, like a desert sunset. 

“Are you okay?” she asks. 

It’s a stupid question but there’s no snappy comeback. He looks at her helplessly, as though he’s forgotten what words are, both spoken and heard. 

He manages a nod and slumps against the corner of the lift. She moves closer, concerned over his pale face and bloodless lips. His breath hitches as she touches his forehead with the back of her hand. She hasn’t been this close to him since that other elevator, since fighting back to back with him. It’s easy to forget who he is when she’s this close, and impossible to ignore. The only things that matter are those sad dark eyes and the trembling of his bottom lip. His forehead is cool. She drops her hand but doesn’t step away. 

“You can skip dinner if you want. I can make excuses for you.”

“No, I can’t. It would be insulting.”

With all his power, he could afford to insult the inhabitants of this tiny space station and face few consequences, at least on a political level, so his reluctance to offend must be personal. There’s a glimmer there of something he’s holding onto, whether it’s only about his mother or about his heritage, and Rey latches onto it, hoping it will guide her to the light still locked away inside him. 

She looks at his lips, and into his eyes. 

The lift stops and chimes softly. She steps away as the door opens onto a long pergola, so laden with grape vines and morning glories that only glimpses of sky and landscape can be seen through the foliage. The scent from the fruit and flowers is heady, so that by the time they reach the end and a glass of wine is pressed into her hand, she already feels intoxicated. 

The pavilion is large, the roof a series of beams much like the pergola, through which she can see the stars. Vines wrap around the support columns, and hang down from the beams. Everything is illuminated by soft lantern light from above and candlelight on the table, which is large enough to seat fifty. 

A droid shows them to their seats. They’re seated separately, some sort of protocol where no one gets to sit by anyone they actually know. Ben is across the table and five seats away, to the right of Regent Verlaine, who sits at the head of the table. He stares at the amber colored wine in his glass, watching it catch the light as Verlaine speaks to him quietly, his brows furrowed. At one point the smallest smile flashes across his face, and he surreptitiously wipes a tear from his eyes. 

Alderaanians are notoriously polite, but Rey can’t help but notice how many of them steal glances at Ben, out of curiosity or anger or fear. More people seem to know exactly who he is than he presumed. There are a number of people looking at him with open lust and Rey feels a stab of anger every time. She wishes she were sitting next to him, a constant reminder that they’re here together. 

_ As if he belongs to you, or to anyone. _

She shakes her head and stares into her own glass. It’s the third one, to go with the third course of food. She hasn’t been paying any attention to what she’s been eating, a first for her. The person seated to her right is more concerned with their food than conversation, and the one to her left talks so rapidly and unceasingly that all Rey has to do is nod occasionally as she keeps one eye on Ben. 

Between the last course and dessert, she turns to answer a question her right companion has about lightsabers, and when she turns back, Ben has slipped away.

“Damn,” she says.

“What’s that?” the person asks.

“Nothing. Excuse me.” 

She slips out, stopping a few feet outside the lighted perimeter, cursing him for making her miss dessert. From here, the stars are visible above the dome, as well as the bright arc of the asteroid ring. She casts about with her mind until she brushes against his, getting a general feel for the direction he’s headed. She finds him sitting on a bench, under an arch covered in softly glowing blue flowers. 

“These are the candlewick flowers?” she says. 

“Yes.”

Through the arch, the path winds through a small garden dotted with the beautiful blossoms. She wanders in quite far before she feels him behind her. 

“This is a replica of one of the gardens at the palace.” He plucks one of the flowers from a vine that’s twisted up a small tree and tucks it into her hair.

“Can you do that?” she says.

“I can do what I want.”

“That’s not true, or else you would have come with—”

“Who says I wanted that?”

She turns and walks deeper into the garden, the dark hiding her suddenly hot cheeks. The dinner party sounds grow fainter, a breeze ruffles the foliage and the flowers pulse brighter. 

He follows her. Soon, they’re deep in a grove, the only light coming from the stars and the flowers lining the path. 

“I know you wanted to come with me,” she says, braver in the dark. 

“I know you wanted to stay with me,” he replies. 

It’s true. She had never wanted anything more, and if he asked her to stay with him right now, without the imminent threat of her friends being destroyed, she’s not sure she would be able to say no. 

“I should go back,” she says. “It’s a long trip tomorrow and then everything goes back to how it was, and it’d be nice to get some real rest before that.”

“Okay.”

“You’ll be alright?”

“I’m going to stay here for a while.”

She hesitates, wishing she could see more of his face, wishing she couldn’t see quite so much of his soul. Finally, she turns back down the path, looking back once as she leaves. He’s standing, in the center of the little garden, looking up at the stars.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A confrontation and a conflagration.

Rey wakes up to a service droid entering the suite with breakfast. She greets Rey and goes into the bedroom. Ben must have come back sometime after Rey fell asleep, but she had been too deeply asleep to notice. It’s strange, though, as she’s always been a light sleeper, even when exhausted. Had it been the wine? Even though she’d only taken a few sips of each glass, there had been a new variety served at every course. That would explain her feeling so moony over Ben, as well, among all those flowers, under all those stars. Not to mention his beautiful clothing. Of course it turned her head. She’s not made of stone. 

“What would you like for breakfast, Miss?” 

She turns to find the droid standing in front of the bedroom door. 

“Whatever’s fastest,” she says. “We need to get going soon.”

“Oh dear,” the droid says. “You haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?”

“An electrical storm, Miss. The port is shut down for the duration.”

“Ben Solo and I are the two best pilots in the galaxy. Surely we can make it.”

“I have no doubt of your piloting skills, Miss. However, it doesn’t matter how excellent those skills are, if your ship won’t run.”

“Have you told him already?” Surely, he would be raging if he knew. 

“Of course. He stated that his ship is not equipped to weather an electrical storm.”

“How long will it last?”

“At least one day cycle. Does this information affect your preference for breakfast?”

“Just tea,” she says, appetite gone. “Can I get a message out?”

“I’m afraid communication is rather limited, but it never hurts to try.”

The droid leaves, and Rey creeps toward the bedroom door. All is quiet, in the room and in the Force. Has he gone back to sleep?

The door slides open and Rey finds herself staring at Ben Solo’s wide, bare chest. 

“Sorry. I, uh…” She takes a deep breath and looks up into his eyes. “What are you going to do today? To pass the time.”

“I assume you want to see more of the biosphere.”

His hair falls over his eye as he looks down at her, the tiniest smirk on his face. She takes a step back. “I do, but you don’t have to come.”

“I’d like to. We don’t have to stick together, though. The place is huge.”

“It’s fine if we do. I don’t care. You know more about the plants.”

“There’s a guide,” he points out.

“Sounds boring,” she says.

“I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

* * *

He’s back in black clothing when they head to the gardens, though it’s far more relaxed than before; more like the clothes he wore as “scholar” Ben Solo on Naboo. He still wears the braid. Since she didn’t have time to shower, Rey had simply taken down her braided hairstyle. Her hair has grown rapidly over the last few months, and the soft waves fall past her shoulders. She wears the clothes she arrived in, which had been laundered while she slept. 

They don’t have the luxury of a private capsule today, but the trams aren’t as crowded, as many of the visitors managed to get away before the storm started and most residents have gone back to their regular routines. The only other people in the capsule are a nanny droid and her two charges, Togruta children, both of a similar age, with blue skin and eyes. Rey exchanges smiles with them, and they say polite goodbyes when they exit in a shopping sector. 

They enter the gardens in an area perched on the brink of sunrise. During the "daylight" hours, the dome is artificially lit and colored, so that it emulates the passing of the hours, following an Alderaanian day rather than a standard one. The light now is soft and barely golden, filtering through a thick canopy of leaves overhead.

“These trees are enormous,” she says. “Did they grow them from seeds, or were they cloned?”

He walks around the base of one of the trees, hand running along the impossibly smooth bark. “From seeds. They’re fast growing anyway, and they manipulated the climate conditions to imitate those in the mountains where they came from. They were fortunate, with these. They were cultivated on other similar planets for timber, so there was a vast amount of seed stock. Some of the other plants were much harder to track down, and countless others are lost forever. There’s a few ancient ones growing elsewhere, but even those are babies compared to the ones that grew in the mountains. My mother told me stories about them.” 

He’s out of sight, on the other side of the trunk, but when Rey goes around that way, he’s not there. 

“Ben?”

“In here,” he says, from inside the tree. There’s an opening in the trunk, wide enough for a person to slip through. Inside, there’s enough room for them to stand, though there’s only a hand's breadth of space between them. She’s eye level with the base of his throat, and she stares at a mole on his neck, just one dot in the constellation of his face, the scar she gave him ripping through it like a superweapon. 

The smell inside the tree is as earthy as it is woody, damp and rich. It’s hard to distinguish from the smell of his skin and hair. He had been able to shower, evidently. She starts to ask him if he’s been to sleep, but he puts his finger on her lips. 

“Shhh,” he says.

She brushes his hand aside. “What?”

“Listen.” 

He doesn’t mean listen with her ears. “Are you trying to give me some kind of lesson?”

“No,” he sighs. “I’m not your teacher, remember? Just, be quiet at least so I can focus?”

“Fine.” She closes her eyes and inhales. A little meditation might be helpful, anyway. 

With this type of meditation, things don’t fall away. It’s not about freeing yourself of thought, but about opening yourself up, remembering that you’re a conduit for the Force. So, the smell of the tree and the earth, the warmth of the air, Ben’s presence all intensify momentarily, before becoming a part of her, and she a part of everything else. Like her being is a drop of ink in a cup of water, slowly dispersing. 

Ben’s presence asserts itself again, however, and she finds herself back in the mirror cave on Ach-To. Only he’s standing beside her this time, with a line of Ben Solos stretching out in front of them and behind them, along with infinite copies of Rey. She looks up, catching the eye of the Ben beside her. He’s never been here before, only heard her describe it. 

“I don’t understand,” she says. They turn back toward the mirror and there’s a tremendous jerk, then she’s standing inside the tree again, hands pressed against his. She steps back, colliding with the wall of the tree. 

“Was that Ach-To?” he asks. 

“Yes.” 

Before he can stop her, she squeezes through the crack into what is now full daylight. How long had they been in there?

“Do you want to go back to the room?” he says.

“No. I may never get to see this again. Let’s go.”

The path meanders through the giant trees, out of the grove, down a hill, until it meets up with and runs beside a small stream. Rey squats and runs her hands in the cool water, then presses them to her forehead and the back of her neck. The stream runs through a meadow dotted with purple and pink wild flowers. Winged insects flit back and forth and the wind makes the tall grass look like rolling waves. 

“Was Alderaan really this beautiful?”

“She always said it was.”

The path cuts through the meadow to another grove of trees. These are as delicate as the other trees were solid, their long, supple branches waving gently over the stream. She keeps a steady pace, only pausing when she’s truly stunned, only speaking when she’s got a pressing question for him. 

“It’s more like being on an island than on a planet, though, isn’t it?” she says, when they stop to rest. 

“True,” he says. “Rey—”

“We should keep moving. I want to see the candle flowers in daylight.”

They don’t find the garden from the night before, but they do come across a “wild” bower of them rambling over a pile of boulders where the stream plunges into a ten-foot waterfall. They’re shut tight, the petals translucent, with veins of blue running through. When she cups one in her hand, it begins to pulse, and the petals slowly unfold. 

“I can’t believe something like this exists,” she whispers.

“Me neither,” he says. When she looks up, he’s not looking at the flower, but at her. 

She stands, brushing dirt off her hands and thighs. “I think I’m going to go back to the room now. I didn’t really eat breakfast and I’m not as used to skipping anymore. You can stay, if you want.”

But he walks back with her. Gets on the capsule with her. Goes back to the room. She orders an obscene amount of food and wolfs it down, with no regard for even the most basic of table manners. Still, he stays in the living room with her, staring at his data pad and grazing on nuts and fruit. 

“What are you reading?” she asks, mouth full, spraying crumbs. 

He flicks a crumb off the data pad and continues scrolling. “It’s about the remains of a Jedi temple on Alderaan, dating back to before settlement. A fairly large teaching temple, room for hundreds of students.”

“I have a question for you, because I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to be finding and teaching Force users.” He scoffs at this, but she presses on. “I’m serious. I’m not necessarily saying I want to train Jedi—and I wouldn’t tell you even if I were—but what do you think of the Jedi taking children at such a young age, and never letting them see their parents again?”

“I think it’s abhorrent, obviously.”

“But the storm trooper program—”

“I have nothing to do with that.” he says, not looking up. 

“You do, but that’s not my point, not really. I actually don’t think what the Jedi did was horrible as people make out. Think about what might have happened to me if my powers had awakened at a young age? Unkar Plutt would have had no qualms about using me, or selling me off to the highest bidder.”

He looks up at this, his dismissive attitude gone. “You don’t think the Jedi used children?”

“You sound like your uncle.”

“Well, he was right, the Jedi needed to die with him.” He rubs his face with his hands and pushes his hair back. “All I’m saying is that whether you’re a stormtrooper, or a Jedi Padawan, or in some travelling circus sideshow levitating things, what difference does it make? You’re someone else’s tool, or their weapon. It shouldn’t happen to anyone. You can’t say it’s right for the Jedi but wrong for everyone else. And it’s everywhere. Even on gorgeous, genteel Naboo with their child queens.”

“Don’t queens ascend when their parents die?”

“The queens of Naboo are elected. They’re placed on the throne—barely out of childhood—put in these heavy dresses and painted like dolls. They say they’re so young because of their ‘childlike wisdom,’ but what do you really think happens?”

“I don’t know.”

“Think, Rey.”

“I suppose,” she says, rubbing her temples. “That whoever’s in charge of guiding them or advising them, would have the real power?”

“Exactly. This whole galaxy, I don’t know if there’s a single place where children are allowed to be children, and it’s just accepted.”

Rey stands, too infuriated to stay still. “You’re such a hypocrite. My friend Rose didn’t have a real childhood because of the First Order and their bombs. And she said that on Canto Bight and other planets there are children—”

“Do you think those children weren’t enslaved under the New Republic? Do you think that even a fraction of the slaves in the Galaxy were ever freed under any leader?”

“At least there were people trying!” 

He stands and the room suddenly seems far too small to contain them. She’s grateful they left their sabers on the ship.

“Rey you cannot be that naive. My mother certainly isn’t, so I don’t know why she’s been filling you with lies about the glory of the New Republic.”

“Your mother! You’re going to sit there and act like you care—”

“No!" he shouts, and the room creaks with the force of his anger. "You don’t get to talk about her!” He puts his hands over his ears and doubles over. 

He’s on the verge of tears and it dawns on Rey what's going on: He let himself get mad at one thing, so he wouldn’t be sad about other things, but it didn’t work. His anger led him right back to the thing he was sad about. Her own eyes well up and spill over as she closes the distance between them. 

He reaches out to touch her face, and she doesn’t stop him. When he cups her cheek, she leans into it, and the tears come faster. Because she must be some kind of monster herself if she can accept this comfort from him. He offers her something she needs, and she doesn’t even hesitate, just like Luke said. She folds herself into his chest and his arms go around her, cradling her head in one massive hand, the other resting at her waist. 

His heart pounds against her ear. He is alive, and warm, and real, and when he kisses the top of her head, she knows she should end this contact. Step away. Tell him to go to his room.

She looks up at him. 

His face is a mess, red and tar stained and crumpled, and he is so beautiful. “I’m sorry,” he says. 

She shakes her head, grabs onto the back of his neck, and pulls him toward her. His mouth meets hers and it’s like something explodes inside her brain. He kisses her, frantically, his hands already wandering over her body. She puts her arms around his neck and presses herself close to him. He puts one arm around her and hoists her up, and she wraps her legs around him as he starts moving toward the sofa. He lowers them onto it, never letting go of her. 

He’s big, and the sofa isn’t that big, but if they take the time to move to the bedroom she might have second thoughts and she doesn’t want to have second thoughts. She’s wanted this for so long, longer than she’d let herself admit until now. It’s what she’s been running from all day. 

His mouth is everything she’s dreamed of, his hair is like silk in her hands and his shoulders are solid as the struts of a super star destroyer. 

She knows the basics of what’s going on, but she’s never come close to doing it. Always on the verge of dehydration and starvation, her body hadn’t craved anything else. Regular food and sleep changed that, as had her encounters with this man. This may be their only chance. One of the seams of her shirt rips as he pulls the neck aside to get at her breast and he almost rips her pants as he pulls them down. She’s only freed one leg when he positions himself at her entrance and looks at her, a desperate question in his eyes. 

She nods and he pushes into her. 

It hurts, a white hot heat lancing her, but there’s also relief at finally giving into this ridiculous longing. 

“I’m sorry, I’ll stop,” he whispers in her ear when she whimpers, but she holds him there. 

“Don’t.” 

The pain and the pleasure are both mixed up with this relief, and as he begins to move his hips, the pain eases, until it’s a faint underscore to the pleasure. They’re perched precariously on the sofa, and it’s either sheer will or the will of the Force keeping them from falling. There’s something digging into her back and the leg she has braced on the floor starts to cramp, but it feels so good she doesn’t care. 

Right as it starts to feel incredibly, impossibly good Ben moans softly and thrusts into her hard, his face screwed up as though he’s in pain. He releases his breath and collapses on her, his breath warm on her ear, one hand caressing her cheek, clutching at her hair. The euphoria emanating from him is strangely similar to his energy when they fought Snoke’s guards together. That’s something to be examined far in the future, if ever. 

Gradually, his happiness ebbs and is replaced by the usual jittering anxiety. He scrambles up, not looking at her as he fastens his trousers and straightens his shirt. “I’m sorry,” he says. “That was—I’m sorry, Rey.” He gets up and goes to his room. The door slides shut, and the lock engages with a beep. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lightspeed

Rey sits on the sofa, pants pooled around one ankle, shirt ruined, Ben Solo’s seed leaking onto the upholstery. She looks behind her for whatever was poking her in the back and finds his c _ ommlink _ . She picks it up with a shaky hand and lets out a huge breath when she sees that it’s off and requires a fingerprint to activate. It wouldn’t have transmitted off the station but what if it had called someone on the station. This situation was mortifying enough without that. 

Seconds ago she was as close to a person as she could possibly be and now she’s alone. Like many experiences she had built up in her head over the course of her life, this one left a lot to be desired in the execution. Unlike most of those situations, however, this time she has the luxury of contemplating it during a long shower. Thankfully, this suite is equipped with two. She cannot imagine having to knock on his door so she can clean herself up after having unsatisfying sex with him. 

She gets in and sets the water temperature as hot as she can stand it and programs it to gradually cool down over the next hour. Her nipples are sensitive under the spray, and she’s sore between her legs, which are a bit wobbly. Otherwise, she feels the same, physically. The ache she felt for him has receded...slightly. She hadn’t gotten anywhere close to release, but everything is so jumbled and confused that the idea of him looking at her again, much less touching her, increases her embarrassment. 

“What do I even have to be embarrassed about?” she says to herself. It’s not like she was the one who finished in two minutes and left her partner hanging. Rey knows enough to understand that what happened is humiliating for human males. She’s perfectly willing to cut him some slack over it, since she had no idea what she was doing, either, but leaving like that was cowardly, not to mention humiliating for  _ her _ . 

The longer she stays in the shower, the more agitated she becomes, and since she was looking for the opposite effect, she gives up well before her hour is up. Cracking the door, she peeks out to find the living room empty. The food has been cleared away, the floor has been swept and—her ears burn when she sees it—the sofa has been cleaned. The cleaning droids here are extremely efficient. 

There’s a carafe of hot tea on the table, and next to the tray is a neatly folded black shirt. 

She hadn't given much thought to her torn shirt, even though it was the only one she brought. She picks this one up. It's long sleeved with a wide neck, made of a fine, soft fabric. She presses it to her nose and inhales. It smells...clean. If she’s disappointed that it doesn’t smell like him she doesn’t let herself acknowledge it. She puts it on, belts it, and rolls up the sleeves. Putting her wrinkled pants back on reminds her of him taking them off, how he had been biting her ear as he did it. Her muscles, the ones inside, contract at the thought. 

_ You would beg him for it even now, wouldn’t you? _

She sits down and pours herself a cup of tea, dreading the time they have to spend together until the storm clears. She’s almost decided that she should ask for another room now that the station is less crowded when the decision is taken out of her hands. 

Ben, fully dressed, hair freshly washed, comes back into the room with his bag. Had he already arranged for a room of his own? Why does that make her feel dejected when she had been planning to do the same thing?

“The storm cleared already,” he says to the space above her left shoulder. “We can leave as soon as you’re ready.”

* * *

They don’t say anything else to each other until they board his ship, and then only what’s required to get the ship started and make the jump to lightspeed. They have to take a different, much longer route because the entrance to the faster lane was damaged in the storm. They retire to their rooms hours before either of them should be tired. 

Rey lays on her bed, arms folded over her belly. She may as well meditate, so she focuses on her breath. Almost immediately, she can hear his heartbeat, his breath, as though he’s beside her on the bed rather than across the hall. His heartbeat increases, and a few seconds later, her door slides open. 

“Why did you leave me?” he demands, arms braced on the door frame. 

Rey sits up. “What? You were the one who ran from the room like I’d just vomited all over you.”

He blinks, then shakes his head. “No. Not…just now. On the Supremacy. You left me there. Why?”

“How is that even a question? You—you wanted me to give everything up. To let my friends die.”

“Didn’t you ask me to give up everything, too?” 

“That’s different”

“How?”

“I wanted you to come with me, so we could end all this misery. You wanted me to help you build new miseries,” she says. 

“Is that what you really think?”

“What else could you have meant? What else have you done since you became leader?”

“Remember, what did I ask you to do?” he asks. “I wanted you to help me create a new order.”

“And what does that mean?” she replies. “Have you done that? Surely you don’t need me by your side to do it.”

“It takes time,” he says. “That’s why I was in Naboo, to study the Old Republic, to figure out where it went wrong—"

“We don’t have time! Just like in the throne room. You have the power to make things stop and you won’t do it. And I don’t want you to do things just for me but if that’s what it’ll take to make it stop, maybe it’s worth it.”

“Rey…”

“No. I can’t do this anymore. I keep thinking you’ll finally see that you’ve got to stop hurting people. That you can be the person you were back there, the person you’ve let me see. But that’s one tiny space station and I’m one tiny person and the galaxy is huge and to the galaxy you’re Kylo Ren. And your family is gone and I’m the only one left who wants Ben Solo back.” The tears she’s been holding back since he fucked her and left her start to flow. 

“You really don’t get it, do you? Ben Solo isn’t another person. Even if I came home—wherever that is—I still did all those things. Ben Solo did—does—all those terrible things.”

“I wanted to take your hand so badly,” she sobs.

“Take it now,” he says. 

She can see in his eyes that he knows what the answer will be. She says it out loud anyway. “I can’t”

He looks at her, heartbroken as the day he last made this offer. 

“I won’t ask again,” he says. 

“I know.” 

They stare at each other for the space of too many heartbeats, and with a last look he leaves her, the door sliding shut on a view of his back. She curls up on the bed and cries out months worth of tears. For everything that’s happening now and everything that happened to get her here. She even cries a few for the life she left behind, a life of deprivation and futility but a life she knew. When she finally stops, the ship is silent. Too silent. The only hum comes from the engines. 

Where is he? He wouldn’t—couldn’t have left, and surely if he’d done something stupid like kill himself, she would have felt it. It would have ripped through her like a knife. She goes to his door and uses the Force to override the lock. It slides open and he’s standing there. 

“Why did you cut me off?” she demands. 

“I couldn’t—you were so sad.”

“You bastard!” she says, pushing at his chest with both palms. “Why can’t you act like a human and comfort me?”

“I’m sorry, Rey.” He has hold of her by her forearms, his giant hands circling all the way around and he bends to look in her eyes. “You’re the only person who makes me feel human and it’s so...much.”

Breathing hard, she looks at him. Her heart is pounding so hard she thinks she might die, but she throws off his grip on her and launches herself at him, her mouth crashing into his. 

They’re just as frantic this time as the last, but they manage to get all of their clothes off and make it to the bed. She has him turn the light off, not so he can’t see her body, but so they can’t see each other’s faces clearly. In the dim blue light of the hyperspace lane there’s distance from what they’re doing. It’s not that she wants to pretend he’s someone else; she doesn’t want to be reminded that he should be. 

He’s on top of her, kissing her neck, but he stops abruptly and looks at her. His face is half in shadow, the other half bathed in light. 

“You don’t want to do this. With me.”

Rey freezes, eyes locked on him, one hand still in his hair, her thumb tracing his ear. She must have been thinking very loudly; they usually can’t read each other’s exact thoughts. 

“I want to do this more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.”

“Rey—”

“Please.”

That one word breaks the last of his resolve and he kisses her mouth. She hadn’t realized it before, but Ben Solo is good at kissing when he takes his time. Not that she has anyone to compare him to, it just feels exactly right to her. His kisses are still salty like before—will his kisses ever not be full of tears?—but now he lingers, focusing as much on giving as taking. He seems especially fond of her bottom lip, sucking and biting it, but he gives plenty of attention to her top lip, and her neck, and her collarbones, before coming up to kiss her mouth again. She opens her legs wide, feeling aching and bereft, and he moves into place between them, not breaking the kiss as he slides into her again. 

There’s no pain this time, only a delicious tightness, and she raises her hips to meet his. When she does, she feels it not only at her center, but how it feels for him, to be inside her, to have her moving against him. 

They stop at the same time, staring at each other. 

“Did you feel it too?” he asks. 

She nods. It wasn’t like this before. Had their bond deepened because of the first time, or had they not been in sync enough? Tentatively, she runs her nails down his back, and a chill runs down her own spine. 

Is this what it’s like when all Force users have sex? Maybe it only happens if two Force users do it together, or perhaps only two people with their kind of bond. 

Ben pulls out of her again and the dual sensation of it makes her eyes roll back in her head. Ben stifles a curse and stills again. 

“Is it possible for something to feel too good?” he asks, and then he smiles at her, a real, full smile, his face opening like a candlewick flower. 

Rey takes it in greedily, and for the first time since they touched hands the night she left Ahch To, she sees clearly the man he could be, the man he used to be. He entwines his hands with hers, above her head and she hooks her legs around his and they move together, so slowly, the time passing like pulled taffy. 

* * *

She doesn’t really sleep. Her body feels like it’s full of electricity, her mind buzzing. And her heart is full to the brim as she looks at him lying on his side, one arm bent under his pillow, asleep beside his greatest enemy. 

“You’re so bad at this,” she whispers. 

He opens his eyes. “At what?”

“Being a supreme ruler.”

“Am I?” he asks. “Did you think I was asleep?”

“Well, yes.”

“I was just listening to you breathe.”

She kisses the mole on his neck, the one she’d stared at earlier, light years ago, before their shared vision inside the tree. “What is this?” she asks. 

“My neck?” 

“No,” she says. She kisses the place where his neck and jaw meet. “Why is it like this between us? Why do I feel like I’m trapped in your gravity well?” 

_ And why can’t it be like this all the time? _

She wants to weep with the knowledge that they have to part. She kisses his ear. God, those ears. 

They have another two days of travel. Surely if they do this a few more times it will be out of their systems and they can move on with clear heads. They had only needed to scratch an itch. 

_ And then what? You go back to trying to kill each other?  _

“Just be here with me,” he says reading her mind as easily as he is learning to read her body. He rolls her over onto her stomach. “Nothing counts here, not in hyperspace.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A beginning.

“When I fought Luke—”

“You fought Luke?”

“I never told you that?” 

He smiles and reaches across the table to pass her the package of crisps they’re sharing. “You definitely did not.”

“On Ach To, after he interrupted us.” Rey blushes at the memory, which seems ridiculous considering all the ways he’s seen her over the last day, how many places he’s touched her that are far more intimate than her hand. “I was so angry about what you told me. I can’t believe how angry I was.” 

“Does he know what actually happened at all? Did he explain?”

She looks down at her mug of tea, at her hands, engulfed in the sleeves of his sweater. “I didn’t give him the chance.”

Ben tells her about everything. About the friends he had and fought and lost. How he didn’t blow up the temple. How he fled for his life but couldn’t go home to his mother. About Snoke and the Knights of Ren. About the first innocent life he took.

Rey wants to ask why he didn’t go to his mother, but it doesn’t feel like the right question and at the same time feels obvious. 

Later, he lays with his head on her chest and she tells him about the first time she killed someone. 

“I’m scared about how much I liked it,” she whispers. “He was a nameless, faceless enemy. I felt righteous because all I saw was that he was bad and I was good. And now I know they’re all like Finn, that they had no choice, and I don’t know what to do. It’s why I haven’t gone on any missions where there’s a chance of encountering them. I don’t think I could kill another stormtrooper.”

He looks up at her and he wants to say something, but something stronger is holding him back and she can’t even get the shape of the thought, he’s shielding it so well. 

Then he kisses her breast, and her nipple, then takes it fully into his mouth to suck, and she arches into it. The journey has mostly been this, the two of them discovering each other, learning that the fun part comes before he actually enters her, finding all their favorite places to be caressed, kissed, bitten and sucked. 

He works his way down her body and she laughs to think that a day ago she didn’t know that people give kisses down there. The first time she felt his tongue on her, it was like going from Jakku to Takodana all over again, as if the universe had bloomed into a thousand new colors. She’d never known there could be this kind of pleasure. He apologized after, telling her it was his first time, and she had been too out of breath, her mind too scrambled to do anything but kiss him—a different kind of salty kiss—and call him an idiot. 

Then he got better at it and she understood why he had apologized. 

Halfway through the first day they began experimenting with using the Force for assistance, to hold themselves in place and free up their hands, to aid in new positions, but they always came back to the way they began, because the spiritual aspect of their connection was even more exquisite than the physical. 

“You’d think somewhere along the way, someone would have written down all the ways you can use the Force during sex,” she says as now, as he braces himself above her. 

He lifts her hips and pulls her closer. “There was a sect of Force users whose entire philosophy revolved around using the Force to enhance pleasure. They didn’t call it The Force, though, they called it Bliss.”

“What happened to them?” 

He is slowly running the head of his cock over her clit and it’s hard to think or talk. 

“They were wiped out by people who didn’t agree.”

“The Jedi?”

“Not exactly.” He gets into position and puts one hand around her waist, holding her hips in the air, holding himself—and essentially her—up with his other arm. “It was so long ago that the concepts don’t really mean the same thing. Only fragments of their texts survive, but there were some illustrations.”

Then he’s inside her and everything is forgotten but the bliss. 

* * *

They go on like this, stopping occasionally to eat and drink. When she wears anything it’s the shirt he gave her. Everything begins taking on a dreamy air, moments running into each other, sometimes feeling like everything is happening at once. 

Once, in her bed: he is so sweaty, it drips from his hair onto her face as he hovers above her, hands next to her shoulders, rigid, and he pulls out almost all the way and stays there, breath ragged, and she knows he could stay that way for hours if he wanted. 

“What do you want?”

She lifts her hips but he pulls back again.

“No.” He says. “What do you want?”

She’s desperate, hollowed out, dying for him to be inside her again. “Please.”

“Say it.”

“Fuck me, please. Just fuck me.”

And he does. 

She gives as good as she gets, however, and when she’s in control, she lifts onto her knees enough that only the tip of his cock remains inside her. She makes the shallowest of movements until he looks like he’s going to go insane, then plunges onto him and starts the whole thing again, lifting up excruciatingly slowly. 

Once, in the galley, bent over the table where they had been eating moments before. More than once in the shower, where they learn there are times when using the Force is essential. Another time—or two—in the pilot’s seat, both of them facing forward the first time, her facing him the second time. 

At one point she does come to her senses, briefly. He’s fucking her from behind, and she looks down at her hands gripping the sheets and she remembers who he is. 

_ What are you doing? _

But she shakes her head. Nothing matters here, nothing counts in hyperspace. Not who she is or who he is, none of it. He reaches around and touches her in just the right spot and she’s falling, forgetting it all, faster than she’s hurtling through the stars. 

* * *

Finally, they sleep, their bodies protesting all the exertion and lack of food and most of all, the friction. They have fourteen hours left. 

She wakes before him, and this time he is truly asleep. She watches him and muses. Who really is he? Is this person she’s with now—and the person he’d been on Alderaan—the true Ben Solo, or is he only able to be this way because of where they are? Is the truth of who he is somewhere between this soft, giving man and the brutal shell he built around himself? Is there any way to reconcile the two? 

She falls asleep thinking about this, has dreams she thinks may be visions, disjointed images mostly, of fighting, of fucking, dozens of ways of living and dozens of ways of dying. The dreams slip away as soon as she wakes up. He is gazing at her and the look in his eyes sends shockwaves through her entire body. 

“How much longer to Naboo?” she asks. 

“Four hours.” 

So they slept for ten hours. She rolls over and stretches, enjoying the deep soreness in her muscles. Ben puts his hand flat on her tummy. She gets a little thrill when he does this, seeing how it spans the width of her waist. It makes her remember what it was like to have him protect her, to have him kill for her. She wants that, always. For now, he slides his hand up to her breast and cups it, his thumb circling her nipple, but when she looks back at his face, he’s a million miles away. His thoughts are clear, however. He doesn’t want it to end. 

She turns back toward him and puts her hand on his cheek. “I don’t want you to leave,” she says. “I don’t want to leave without you. I’m not going with you to the First Order but I’ll go with you anywhere else.”

“Is that something we can do?”

“It’s definitely something we can do. I don’t know if it’s something we should do.”

She lets herself imagine it, though. It would be such a relief to just, not go back. She could send word that she’s alive and well and then they can disappear. Travel together until they find a place to land. The closer they get to Naboo and her waiting ship—which will take her back to her waiting responsibilities—the more she wants to turn around and go as fast in the opposite direction. 

_ You’d abandon your friends, the galaxy, because this man’s cock makes you feel nice? _

She absolutely would. Just once in her life she would like the privilege to be selfish, if only for a while. They say that selfishness is the path to the Dark Side but wouldn’t constant self denial be an alternate, though slower route? She knows for certain that she cannot go back to fighting this man. 

“We shouldn’t make any decisions right now,” he says. He’s staring at her mouth in a way she’s become infinitely familiar with. “I don’t think either of us are thinking clearly.”

“Definitely not,” she sighs as he closes in on her. 

* * *

By the time they come out of lightspeed, Rey is still not sure she’s thinking clearly. She is scrubbed clean and fully dressed but her thoughts are racing. She looks out at the planet and feels a sharp pang for her friends. Landing and leaving will be another step back to them. 

But it may also mean an irrevocable separation from Ben, and even thinking about it feels like being kicked in the chest. She looks at him, sitting in the copilot seat, giving her control. 

She looks out again and purses her lips before beginning their approach. She feels a stab of anguish as she does, and she doesn’t know if it’s hers or his. 

* * *

He won’t look at her after they land, or when she comes back to the cockpit with her bag. 

“Ben—”

“Just go,” he says. When she doesn’t go, he turns his head slightly. “I’m not angry, but if I have to kiss you goodbye I might destroy this entire hangar and everyone in it.”

“I’m sorry, Ben.”

“Please go.”

He’s a swirling void of pain and then there’s nothing. He’s cut himself off from her. He is ten feet away and if she weren’t looking at him, she wouldn’t know he’s there.

“Goodbye, Ben.” 

Walking back to the Falcon is like wading through quicksand. Though she can’t sense him, it feels like there’s a rope attached to her, leading back to him, pulled taut. If she keeps going will it break? Does she want it to?

She stops at the bottom of the Falcon’s ramp. She can’t go up. Maybe if she stands here until she hears his ship fly away she can continue. Panicked at the idea of him really leaving, she turns around.

He’s standing ten feet away, a bag slung over his shoulder. 

“Ben?” 

He shrugs. 

Whatever held her back releases her and she runs to him, leaping into his arms. “You’re coming with me?”

“Yes, but not to the Resistance.”

She pauses. “What about money?” she says, buying time as her mind races through a million possibilities. 

“There’s a fairly obscene amount of credits in this bag, and there are stashes in the Falcon that even you haven’t discovered yet.”

He puts her down and she looks up at him. He looks so happy—scared shitless, but happy. She looks back at the ramp. “You’re okay with taking the Falcon?”

“I’m more than okay with it.”

“Where are we going?” she says. 

He smiles, full and bright. “Wherever we want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After TRoS, I wanted to give these two a chance to be selfish and be together away from the war, to experience a life where they aren't someone's weapon, even if it's only for a little while. It's very likely that their compassion and sense of duty will get the best of them and they'll return. But for now, they're essentially on an extended honeymoon. 
> 
> Thank you so much everyone who's read this and for all of your lovely comments.


End file.
